It was that odd time of year. Christmas and Boxing Day had passed and it wasn't yet time for New Year's. It was that brief lull where "Good will towards men" was changing over to "old acquaintances being forgot and never brought to mind." Adding to the oddness for Rose Tyler was the fact that the Doctor, her travelling companion, best friend, hero (and love of her life) had recently completely changed. And not in the "Did you notice Robin shaved his head and got a tattoo?" sort of way. He had literally changed every cell of his body.
The trauma of the event had caused him to be unconscious for most of Christmas Eve and the beginning of Christmas Day, although he had woken up just in time to save the world (again). Upon waking, however, his first priority had been how he looked. As she had told him, he was sort of brown. The hair was longer (and begging to be ruffled) and the eyes no longer blue but close to her own shade of brown. He was about the same height he was before, but he otherwise seemed completely different.
And that included his personality as well. That fact had been immediately evident in the clothes he wore when he showed up to Christmas dinner…not to mention the fact that he did show up for Christmas dinner.
At the moment they were heading to the community room at the ground floor of the estate to play foosball. The old Doctor never would have agreed to play foosball, and certainly not against Mickey Smith and Trisha Delaney...and what had possessed him to issue the challenge in the first place? Rose stared at the new Doctor--her Doctor…wasn't he?--thoughtfully, pondering the emergence of yet another new personality trait. It was enough to have the physical reminders that he was different, but at least those were obvious. It was the personality changes that kept popping up and catching her by surprise. Pulling crackers at Christmas Dinner with her mum and Mickey—and then actually wearing the crown. The unyielding hardness of his voice as he said "No second chances," right after the Sycorax Leader plunged to his death. The lightning quick change from glee to anger in the alley after the Sycorax ship exploded.
Upon reflection, perhaps that last one wasn't such a new trait.
Rose shook herself out of her thoughts, and giggled as a new one occurred to her. "Best foosball player in the universe, eh?" she asked, nudging the Doctor with her shoulder as they walked. He smiled down at her before replying.
"Oh, absolutely! Did you know I won the tri-Flymbonion cup four times? Had to find a planet to sponsor me, work my way up through the Galactic Regionals, and then spend an entire year on Plexus Prime fighting my way to the title." He grinned, a happy infectious grin that made Rose's insides somersault.
"A whole year? And when'd you find the time to go off and do nothing but play foosball, anyway?"
"Time Lord, me—I could pop in whenever I needed to for the regionals. As for the whole year, well, I haven't always been such an energetic bloke you know. Some of my earlier incarnations were a bit more...old. Old-ish. Older looking. Grey?" he finished. "Right, 900 years of living--lots of time for me to perfect my foosball skills and strategy, getting the pieces lined up just right, making sure the field of play isn't too rough, playing head games with the opponent. Never played it as a team, though, that's a new one. Didn't even know they played it on Earth, truth be told; at least, not before the 34th century."
Rose lifted her eyebrows. "The 34th century? I know we're stupid apes, but it doesn't take us until the 34th century to think up foosball."
They entered the community room, which was loud and noisy and a bit humid from the many bodies thrust into the space. The foosball table was occupied. Mickey went immediately over to the table, waiting patiently for someone to score a goal so he could interrupt.
"What's he up to now, then?" asked the Doctor, with an air of long-suffering. New Doctor, same old air of fed-up disgust. Apparently, the Doctor did not re-evaluate opinions of people when he changed every cell in his body. Just, apparently, his opinions of things, like domestic dinners with her mother.
"He's making sure we get our names down for the next available game," Rose answered.
"The next available game of what?"
Rose gave him a look. "How's that head of yours? Neural implosions again? The next available game of foosball, once that lot's done."
"That's foosball?" said the Doctor, staring at the table, with its scary, tiny men and dangerous rods poking out. He looked at Rose. "Yes. Right. We may have a bit of a problem. Not a big problem, mind you. On the scale of problems you and I have encountered, this doesn't even count as a problem. It's more of an…interesting fact."
"What 'interesting fact'? I thought you were the best foosball player in the universe."
"Oh, I am," he protested, quickly. "I'm exceptional at foosball. I'm exceptional at everything. Except origami. I'm rubbish at folding paper. Strange, that," he mused, and then shook himself back to the point. "Anyhow, it's an interesting fact that the foosball I'm familiar with is not…that."
"What?" She looked at the table, then back to him. "What's your foosball look like?"
"Welllllll, it's played with lemons and roller skates and a bloke named Figoiwthhh'srgwoi-egg."
Rose gave him a look that made him think she did not appreciate how incredibly clever he was the vast majority of the time. "You thought we were playing some game with lemons and roller skates and a bloke named….Whatever?"
He scratched the back of his neck—a habit she'd noticed he'd suddenly developed—then ruffled his own hair—another new habit, and, since that hair was eminently ruffleable, and since, every time he ruffled it, she inevitably speculated on what it would be like to ruffle it herself, she sincerely disliked that particular new habit of his. "Wellllll," he drawled again—another new habit, the way he made the word "well" stretch on for several syllables, as if he could pour multitudes into the multiple "l"s—"I thought possibly the bloke would be named something different. Nigel, possibly."
"Okay then." She noticed, then waved to, Trisha, who was waiting over in a corner. They joined her, as did Mickey, and removed their coats. She watched him remove his suit jacket as well. Her mind then wandered to dangerous thoughts. She imagined him removing his tie. Then her own fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Her lips were about to trace a path down his chest. She could feel his breath on the top of her head….
"New hoodie thing then?"
She shook her head and saw the object of her fantasy pointing to the red striped zip top her mum had given her for Christmas. She looked down at it. "Yeah. Felt a bit Sporty Spice today."
"You know one of them's an alien. And not the one you'd think."
She laughed, Mickey rolled his eyes, Trisha blinked. "Don't mind him. He thinks he's clever."
"I am clever!"
"Says you."
"Alright, you two, break it up. That lot's gonna give us the table after this." Mickey pointed in the direction of the table.
"Right then, Mickey-boy, explain this game to me." The Doctor led him away, leaving the girls alone.
"Blimey, Rose. Mickey's a good bloke but I don't blame you for ditching him for that. He's a bit of alright, isn't he?"
"Oh, we're not…"
"Table's free!" Mickey called them over.
As she and Trisha walked over to them, the Doctor reached for his tie, never tightly knotted, and loosened it even more; reviving the fantasy she'd been lost in earlier. That's right, she found herself mentally encouraging him. Just take the tie off altogether, and we'll go from there. Preferably someplace private. She had a vivid image of the two of them, tangled together in a wet, messy, urgent kiss, fumbling to get the door of the TARDIS open.
The Doctor, frowning at the foosball table, suddenly looked up at her and sent her one of those brilliant smiles of his, bright-eyed and joyous. In her brief time with this particular incarnation of his, she'd already come to think of it as a just-for-her smile. And she thought Trisha could not be more wrong. The Doctor was in no way "a bit of alright." He was a thousand times better than "alright."
"Have no fear," he told her, in a low voice, still grinning madly, as she reached his side. "Mickey's explained this game to me, and I think I'll be exceptional at it."
She couldn't help but smile back at him. "You're exceptional at everything."
He looked pleased. "Precisely."
Not a half-hour later, Rose had to consider that the Doctor was perhaps not as exceptional at this version of foosball as they might have hoped. With his manic energy and quick reflexes, he should have been a natural—well, if such a thing as a natural-born foosball player existed. But this new version of the Doctor seemed to have a form of ADD that would have left the most hyperactive three-year-old sitting on the ground, stunned. More than once, in his haste to grab the handles poking out from the table at intervals, he'd set the table precariously up on two legs; and he seemed determined to spin the tiny men free from their impalement on the metal rods. Rose was beginning to worry that he might do some serious damage to the table, and was starting to strategize ways out of this potential nightmare.
Five minutes later, though, the Doctor seemed to have magically figured the whole thing out. Suddenly he was everywhere, anticipating the actions of the opposing team and deftly twisting the rods and plastic men with a grace that shouldn't be possible in a game like this. After carrying the Doctor through the first few games, Rose had become almost completely superfluous. Mickey and Trisha looked as stunned as Rose felt. How'd he done that?
With a quick flick of his left wrist, the Doctor spun the rod and fired home yet another game-winning goal. "Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!" he gleefully bellowed. "I think I like this game!" The Doctor grinned broadly as he looked first at Rose, then over to Mickey and Trisha. "Although—the little men are a bit odd. They remind me of a tribe of angry villagers I ran into on—oof! What'd you do that for?" Rose had elbowed the Doctor, deciding the estate community room was not the place to go on at length about aliens from another galaxy. He gave her a wounded look before continuing on. "I like the spinning, though. Spinning is fun."
Rose was momentarily concerned that he would start doing just that in the middle of the room. Instead he rubbed his hands together like he was plotting something.
"Now that I've conquered this, let's see if it's just the partners. Boys against girls! This needs to end quickly."
Shaking their heads to deal with the sudden announcement, Rose and Mickey swapped spots. The first game was easily won by the guys, who then did an embarrassing, distinctly male, handshake-dance thing.
She and Trisha exchanged looks and the game was on. They knew the easiest way to do that was to use their "feminine wiles" to influence things. They also knew it would be much more satisfying to just beat them.
The next match was a bit of a struggle but they pulled it out by a point in the end. The one after that, it was slightly more convincing. The one after that was a massacre.
Across the table were two perfect examples of wounded male pride. "Well, clearly you cheated." The Doctor seemed set on the idea.
"How did we cheat?"
"I don't know but you must have done. This is a manly sport meant to be won by manly men and Mickey."
"Oi!"
"So, you must have cheated. There's no way it could be won by two…"
"I'd choose your next words carefully if I were you."
He paused. "Perfectly lovely and brilliant accomplished young women such as yourselves. You're much too delicate and dainty to be able to do this."
"Right. We just whooped your sorry behinds. Deal with it."
The room had mostly emptied out by then, and it was decided it was time for a break. Mickey went to grab some drinks for the group... They noticed there was a radio playing in the background.
The ADD was back in full effect as the Doctor started pacing, then bobbing his head to the music, then singing along, and then dancing.
Rose was certain she was fifteen different shades of red as his arms spread wide and his head was thrown back.
"I want your lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-v-e. I want your l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-v-e. All I know it that's it's me. You look like you're lots of fun. Open up your loving arms. Watch out here I come!" He looked back and her and gave that disarming grin again. Before she could register what was happening, he had pulled her to her feet and was moving her arms up and down. "Pete Burns, great bloke. Highly misunderstood. Most people think that's plastic surgery. It's not. It's just what his race does." She gave in and started bouncing with him. He leaned close to her ear. "Confidentially, between you and me, he's royalty. This is just his gap year really."
She nodded but it was purely instinct as when his breath hit her ear, all brain functions ceased.
Suddenly, his arms wrapped around her. Singing along with the music, he began to spin the two of them around the community room. "You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round. Like a record baby, right 'round 'round 'round..." Rose couldn't help but laugh, giggling uncontrollably like a schoolgirl at the exuberance her Doctor was showing. The man who had taken her hand and told her to run would never have done this; it had taken the appearance of a rival for him to even acknowledge he knew how to dance.
Jack. At the memory of her lost friend, Rose's laughter faded. Just five days. Five days since everything had happened on the game station. Jack, who was apparently busy rebuilding the Earth, was seemingly gone forever. The Doctor had changed into the grinning, dancing man holding her. He was the same man, and yet he wasn't. As much as the spinning, the memories of what had gone on caused Rose to become dizzy.
Noticing the change in Rose's demeanour, the Doctor stopped singing and slowed their dancing down. "You all right?" he asked gently.
Rose looked up at him, unshed tears shining in her eyes. "Yeah...just kinda hit me what had happened. Don't know why, I was having so much fun and then it came out of the blue, like."
The Doctor nodded sympathetically. "Bound to happen, what with all that's gone on. Want to head back to the flat, then?" Rose shook her head, trying to get rid of the melancholy. She was enjoying being so close to the Doctor, who instead of releasing her had only held her closer. It had been a pleasant surprise to see him so relaxed and unrestrained; with his hair sticking out in a million different directions (Time Lord bed head? Oh, that would lead to places she didn't need to go), his sweet smile, and the warmth in his brown eyes, she could easily forget that he was an alien who could see all that is, was, or ever could be.
"I don't want to go back to the flat," she said.
"Ah." He grinned. "Want to skip over to Orion's Belt then?"
And then he said something like that, and it was far too easy to remember that he was an alien who could see all that is, was, or ever could be. She laughed, a little self-deprecatingly. You keep forgetting he's not human, Rose, she reminded herself. And then she did something that seemed like the most ordinary thing in the world. Something that should have been extraordinary but that simply was. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, breathing him in. The most natural thing in the world to do, when his arms were linked around her this way.
"I don't want to go anywhere," she murmured. She nuzzled at him contentedly, wrapped in him. The music was fast, she could hear it, and they were not dancing, not to the beat, not to any beat. Nor were they even pretending to dance.
"Rose," he said, huskily, into her ear.
"Mmm." She tucked her head under his chin. She fit perfectly there.
"Rose," he said, more firmly, and his hands lifted from her waist, closed into her hair, pulled her gently away from him. For a moment, just a moment, she had time to flush with humiliation, to misinterpret what he was doing. But his brown eyes were so very intent. Brown eyes. And, for the very first time, looking into them, she did not miss blue. "Nine hundred years, and all I've ever wanted was…two a.m. on a street corner. Looking for a cab."
She didn't think he was making sense. Then again, maybe she was just so lost in him that he wouldn't make sense, no matter what.
"And this ridiculous game," he continued, "of I-don't-know-what-it-is-but-definitely-not-foosball, with you, here, tonight, is the closest I've ever come to…" He trailed off, cupped his hands around her cheeks, and he was looking at her in astonishment, as if she were the one who had regenerated into a completely different person instead of vice versa. "You are the closest thing I've ever come to getting everything I ever wanted. Everything I could possibly want, Rose Tyler. It's you."
She just stood there, speechless with amazement. He quickly let her go. "I just mucked this up, didn't I? Oh, this was supposed be some great moment. But no, I've scared you speechless. Well, done me. You'd think after all this time I learn when not to insert my foot into my mouth, but no…"
She cleared her head and grabbed his arm. "Doctor?"
He paused. "Yes, Rose?"
"Are you ever going to shut up or will I have to do it for you?"
He gave her the grin to end all grins. "Why, Rose Tyler, are you flirting with me?"
She dipped her head and looked up at him through her lashes. "Could be."
"Well, in all my days, I've never…"
"Doctor."
"Hmm?"
"Are you going to kiss me or not?"
"Oh! Yes. Yes, I am!" He pulled her closer than ever before, to the point where one couldn't tell where he ended and she began. When their lips connected, Rose started to catalogue every thing she could as she knew this would be a most important moment.
His lips were soft. Probably from not being all that used yet, she thought to herself. The bottom one was slightly fuller than the top and she felt an overwhelming need to nibble on it. She felt more than heard his moan of delight when she did so. He pulled back just enough to switch and proceed to nibble hers instead. As with any first kiss there was the awkward nose bumping but it was quickly laughed off and ignored. His hands were all over her back and then in her hair. Hers stayed at his waist until she got brave and let one wander to his bum. Not only did he not seem to mind, she was certain he pressed himself into her hand. Eventually, she had to come up for air and reluctantly pulled away from him.
"Pretty good, eh?"
"You're so full of yourself. That's one thing that hasn't changed."
"You didn't seem to be complaining there."
"I was just trying to think of a way to break it to you gently."
"Fine. Won't happen again then."
"Oh, I think it will. But with one condition."
"What's that?"
"You're going to need lots and lots of practise." She gave the most put-upon sigh she could muster. "I suppose I can help.
"Right then. You. Here. Right now. I'll show you how to snog good and proper."
"If I have to."
"Watch it. You'll hurt my feelings. You already destroyed my male ego over there at the table. Don't think I could handle much more."
She grabbed his tie and pulled him down to her. "If there's one thing I believe I can do better than you, well, besides foosball, obviously, it's snog," and she laid one on him that left him staggering backwards when she let him go.
"Fine. You win. You definitely do that better than me. Though I think I fancy changing that. Lots of practise it is then." He practically leered at her and leaned in. She braced herself when he kissed her cheek. "Start simple and all."
For some reason, that small gesture made her blush more than anything else from that evening. There was something so intimate about it and the way he slipped his hand into hers and smiled at her that made her stomach flip-flop a few dozens times. "Walk with me?"
"Alright."
He had taken her hand before, but it was to drag her along or as reassurance. Now, he seemed to do for the pure enjoyment. Like any bloke would do with his girl. Now don't get ahead of yourself, Rose mentally chastised. Yes, they had just kissed like something out of a romance novel and yes, there was certainly the promise of it happening again. But that didn't mean that she had a right to stake her claim.
"This okay with you? Holding your hand just because, I mean. I quite like it. Yours just fits mine so nicely. Don't you think?" He held their joined ones up as if to prove it to her.
"Yeah, I do."
"Good because I don't intend to stop. Lets everyone know how things are."
"And how's that?"
He looked at her like he couldn't believe she could ask such a thing. "Well, that you're with me. You're mine. You are, aren't you?" His voice faltered, suddenly unsure of himself.
"Yes, I am."
"And I think it goes without saying, I'm yours. Completely. If you'll have me."
"Of course I will."
They stopped walking and just smiled at each other. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers briefly and sweetly. She couldn't help but think about how apt the lyrics to that song were when it came to him. He certainly spun her right 'round in a very good way.